


Swotty

by reylotrashpiler (Hosnianprime)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: "it's not personal" Rey, "yeah sure tf it's not personal" Ben, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Author is European and that's not underage anymore here, Ben has a crush, Ben thinks he did something VERY BAD, Ben's POV, Bullying, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fucking under influence, Hate Sex, House Party, Kinda, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Nerd!Rey, Pining, Sportsjock!Ben Solo, Sweet, Why is this not a tag yet?, ben did nothing wrong though!, biting off more than you can chew, first time cunnilingus, for my standards it's covered with corn syrup, it will, it will be resolved, it's a bit dark-ish?, it's not going to fit, like... not gotten proper consent, mentions of bullying, no beta we die like strong women, popular Ben, they are both 18, unpopular Rey, why didn't you say so mouse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:28:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27432817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hosnianprime/pseuds/reylotrashpiler
Summary: Swotty: British informal. given to studying hard, esp to the exclusion of other activities.She doesn't miss the way his eyes betray him and sweep the slight curve of her hips that comes from her posture. The way his gaze lingers on her breasts and her mouth."You like this, don't you," she asks lowly.He pins her down with an angry stare. Yes. He damn well likes what he sees but he'll never —"I know you do," she continues. "You think you're subtle enough, but I see you looking at me. In class. I know you want me. Thepariah."He remains stubbornly silent. He can't lie his way through a truth so thick."Is my deduction correct, Solo?""Yes." He admits it like a warning. "Yes it is."
Relationships: Kylo Ren & Rey, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 68
Kudos: 188





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dear friends, this is some strange high-school smut. I warn you, some of it is a bit murky so if you want to see if it's up for you, read the end notes. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_ How much can she weigh?  _

90 pounds, perhaps? 110, if you add the weight of her pullover. She's a scrawny little thing. He could — he could lift her up with one arm. He lifts cheerleaders regularly, 130 pounds of pure muscle and benches his own weight.  _ This one _ shouldn't be a problem. 

Rey'd be soft, he bets. He hasn't seen her run once. She probably can't even do a push-up. Maybe he's tired of these firm asses and six-pack-abs girls. Maybe he wants something —  _ mundane. Average.  _ What a change that would be. 

"Whatchu starin' at bro?" Hux asks him in a low voice as they sit closely in the bench. 

"Nothing," he answers irritatedly and snaps away his gaze. His whole reality appears around him all at once. He zoned out again in math — nothing new there, he might add. He gave up paying attention somewhere around elementary, and since he knows he'll only get into college on a sports scholarship, he devotes all his time to play. That’s just life when your own father gambles away your college tuition. 

He focuses again on the checkered sheets, where letters are copied from the whiteboard in a meticulous writing that belies his bulk frame. Letters in math… what a bullshit. Letters make poems and books and movies — that he likes, even if he'd never admit it to anyone. 

Mr. Ackbar asks for the solution of the equation, and,  _ naturally, Rey  _ has the correct answer. She doesn't come forward though. Not first. She sits silently while Ackbar listens to two wrong answers before calling her name, like a savoir, and  _ then,  _ only then she reluctantly lays out the solution. Ben is surprised at the depth, the richness of her voice every time he hears it. She soldiers on through the palpable irritation of the whole class. To avoid looking anyone in the eye, she stares at her desk, at her workbook. Under the pretense of being annoyed by her, he steals a glance at her to see if — oh yes. She hides her hands in the obnoxiously long sleeves of her thick pullover, her feet twist under her chair into a knot. Caving under the attention. Poor thing. 

"Oliver’s so annoying," Hux mutters, "this know-it-all attitude drives me nuts."

"Yeah," Ben agrees weakly, like it didn't matter to him to even think about it. 

"I bet it would kill her to dress a little less as a cheap anime character," Hux goes on. 

Oh god. Ben hopes she doesn't. The round, oversized glasses which were probably on sale, the ponytail, the grandma pullover, the fucking  _ checkered miniskirt _ … 

"Do you have a crush on the Mouse or what?" Ben growls. 

Hux immediately recoils. 

"Don't insult me like that, bro."

Ben grunts, physically unable to go further down this road of  _ having a crush on Rey Oliver.  _ He doesn't. He doesn't have a crush on her. She's nothing. She doesn't even notice people around her, her nose always in her book. Not being noticed by a girl is — is  _ strange _ to Ben. A little offending, even. With his height and chiseled abs and Captain of the football team all he has is  _ attention.  _ He lost his virginity at the tender age of fifteen to a senior year girl and there was no stopping since. He hooks up here and there, house parties and what not. Since he's not sure there will be university life for him, he gets what he can in high school. 

But Rey Oliver doesn't give a shit about him, or other guys. She dresses like she wanted to scare off advances, she builds thick castle walls from her books. 

A Cinderella who doesn't want to be rescued from her ivory tower. Not that he wants to rescue her. It's not the middle ages or something. A chick's entitled to her own doom and stuff. 

The bell cuts through his musings harshly. The class jumps up, not much less threatening than an outraged wasp nest. Their gangly bodies, in which their souls not yet have grown quite into, are a little whacky to steer. 

Ben also rises, shoving his books in his backpack. Hux sweeps him up in their squad, Jessica and Poe already waiting by the door. Jessica yells for him about tomorrow. Oh yeah. Hux's parents are out of town again, there'll be a pool party and drinks. Maybe some weed, too. The high society of their high school will attend. The cheerleaders, the football team. They even invited the rival football team. A fucking homecoming weekend in the summer. 

The corridor is crowded. Ben's pushed by the current. He's listening to Poe conspiratolly whisper to Jessica and him

"— and Anthony will bring some good stuff, if you know what I mean," 

when a sharp yelp jolts him out of his zone. 

"Hey!" a girl protests angrily. 

He looks up to apologize — he's got manners, duh — 

"Watch your elephant feet!" she grouses.  _ Rey _ grouses. She's cradling her customary books somewhere at the lower edge of his field of vision, making a shield in front of her. But her gaze is firey and defiant behind her glasses. Which she nervously pushes up the bridge of her nose. Her hair is a little messy, freshly washed probably and therefore escaping the elastic… A… 

A tiny little mouse. 

"Shut up,  _ swotty _ ," Ben counters. 

His friends laugh too loudly to be genuine. He knows they don't understand the Britishism, but  _ Ben _ said something that's supposed to be funny, so they laugh. Rey on the other hand runs red as a tomato, adjusts her glasses again, and glares at him. 

"I'm not  _ swotty. _ "

"Duh, sure," Ben rolls his eyes. "Now get out of my way, Mouse." He moves past her (without shoving her, because  _ manners _ ). 

Hux  _ guaffs,  _ which is exaggerated, and Ben vaguely thinks maybe Hux might  _ actually  _ have a crush on Rey when Jessica speaks up. 

"Prove it, Mouse," she taunts, "Tomorrow at Hux's. Party starts at eight."

She grabs Rey's arm and writes on it the address with a pen. 

"Don't be late," she winks at her, then, as they move past, bursts out laughing.

Ben doesn't join her, feeling Rey's gaze burning a hole in his back. His heart seems to hammer faster. 

"Oh my God! The Mouse!" Jessica shrieks, "At Hux's!" 

The idea makes her double over in a fit of laughter. Tears are running down her face, and she's clutching his arm for support. He fights the urge to shake her grip off. Jessica is yet another girl who wants a piece of him. It's not mutual. 

"Can you imagine? Mouse in the pool?" Poe laughs. 

"A drenched rat!" Jessica wheezes. Ben discreetly fees himself from her lingering grip. He clenches his jaw. 

"Can she swim at all?" Hux wonders. 

"Don't worry,  _ Romeo, _ " Ben interjects, "you'll be the one to save her."

"Shut up," the ginger haired boy hisses, "I just don't want a chick to die in my house."

"Hmmm, sure thing," Ben teases. Hux shoves him. He shoves him back. 

"Boys!" Jessica chides. 

"Do you think she'll come?" Poe wonders _.  _

"Nah," Jessica waves him off. "Probably too busy reading." 

"What do you think, Benny boy?" Poe turns to Ben. Ben glares at his childhood friend for using his mother's pet name. He smirks back at him. God. He hates Poe sometimes. 

"I think she will," he answers defiantly. 

Poe bursts out laughing. Ben doesn't. 

"Let's make a bet," Jessica suggests, "20 bucks."

"Easiest money in my life," Poe grins. 

Ben purses his lips for a moment. He's not so sure about this. It seems rude. What if Rey finds out and —

"What's the matter? Don't have the  _ plata _ ?" Poe challenges him. 

"Nah, I got the money. 20 bucks," Ben affirms and shakes hands with Poe, then Jessica. 

"Hux, you in on this?" Poe asks. 

"You bet I am. Just don't let her drown, if she turns up," he grouses. They shake hands. 

"Three against one, Ben," Poe summarizes with a satisfied smirk, "you gonna be out of money, my dude."

"We'll see," is all he says. 

Suddenly tomorrow evening can't come fast enough. 

***

But it does. It does come fast enough,  _ too fast, _ in fact, Ben learns, exactly at 21.07 hours the next day. 

Hux's house is a sight to behold even on an average day. Sitting in the valley of languid hills, the two storey, twin house faces a pool. Above it, string lights are swaying in the wind. On an average day, Hux's stay-at-home mom decorates it to give an inviting cosiness. 

Today, in the course of the afternoon, Ben and his closest friends have transformed it into a space from a teen movie. Stroboscope inside, blue and purple lights outside, refrigerators emptied and stocked with booze, sounds systems installed, pooling all available resources. 

People showed up on time, like they couldn't wait to get to the party. The allure of a pool on a hot summer day is a honey trap enough. 

Rey's nowhere to be seen, of course. Poe and Jessica are already fast on booking their win, and Ben's sure Hux would be too, if he wasn't trying to police the new arrivals (in vain). Ben doesn't really understand why Hux throws these parties when he seems to be more stressed out by them than enjoying it, until he drinks took much to quell said stress and passes out in one of the bedrooms where horny teenagers fuck next to him. 

The Weeknd is loud on the speakers, giving everything a subtle taint of arousal, singing about acts that only half of the attendees understand. The setting sun's rays break on the pool water, floating in it like liquid gold. Everything is perfect. Too perfect. 

Jessica dressed for a pool party, in nothing but bikini tops, fishnet thrown over her upper body and shorts that really aren't much bigger than panties. She's on the fast track to drunk, jabbering loudly and touching his bicep more than Ben's comfortable with. He scans the crowd to find an excuse to lose her. At some point he'll have to make it clear to her that friends are off his fuck-list. 

Anthony just arrives at the gate, shaking hands with Hux. Ben spots his dirty blonde hair and tall physique easily.  _ Perfect _ . He needs to greet the rival football player. After all, this is what sportsmanship dictates. He moves away from the circle, not paying attention to Jessica when she calls his name. 

He waves his way through the crowd, shaking hands and pressing kisses on rosy cheeks. Fluttering eyelashes, envious looks and whispers pave his way to Anthony. Not that he cares. It’s the usual white noise of his life.

"Ben!" the quarterback yells, "good to see you man!" 

"Tony!" Ben grins. They clap their hands together and squeeze to the point of hurting. 

"I gotta say, pretty neat party, man!" Tony nods at the crowd. 

"You have Hux to thank for that," Ben answers with a smile. 

"So," Tony moves closer, lowering his voice for only Ben to hear it, "who's gonna be the lucky girl tonight?" 

Ben laughs awkwardly. 

"I — I don't know man, it's too early to tell. But," Ben says, licking his lips, "you could help me out with something you know."

"What is it?" 

"Jessica. She's —" 

"I got you," Tony winks. He's older, almost 20, as his parents moved around a lot and he had to repeat a year. A real winner. Ben lets out a relieved sigh.

"Let's go," he says. 

Ben prepares to return to the crowd, roll a joint with Tony somewhere in the yard and officially get this party started, when he spots  _ her.  _

He thinks — he thinks his heart stops. Rey's  _ here _ . Queueing in front of the gate, looking extremely uncomfortable. She's crossing her arms in front of her awkwardly, which only draws more attention to her tits. 

Her lovely, lovely, small tits, squeezed together. She's wearing a form-fitting black top. Ben was right. She really is thin, fragile even.  _ Gods.  _ The neckline leaves her round shoulders on display, while her bra is fastened behind her neck. She's probably wearing a bikini top underneath and Ben is sure he'll die from the sudden onslaught of arousal.

Her hair is down, reaching below her shoulders, with strands fixed in a loose bun. Her eyes behind the round glasses are painted discreetly, but enough to notice. Her matte dark red lips draw the attention on themselves. 

He doesn't dare to look further down. What if she's wearing a checkered mini skirt with knee-high socks and —

She catches him ogling her. He pales. She scowls. 

"Who's that?" Tony breathes in Ben's ear with an unmistakable interest. 

"My classmate," he answers carefully. 

"Does she have a name?" 

"Euhm — she's… Rey. Rey Oliver, I guess."

Tony hums. "Pretty."

"Yeah," Ben agrees before he can catch himself. 

He keeps gazing at her, forgetting altogether to look away. For his doom, she really  _ is _ wearing a dark checkered miniskirt with red lines that match her lipstick. And yes. Knee high black socks and black shoes. A little gothic look — totally outdated and ridiculous on anyone but her. But Rey's her own world and own league and Ben finds he likes this new, edgy vibe she gives off. 

"Ben!" Jessica calls, approaching, "Where did you —  _ oh my god!  _ Is that — is that  _ the Mouse?! _ " she squeals, spotting Rey. 

"Seems like it," Ben mumbles. 

"What the — Hux!!" Jessica yells, "Hux, get over here!" 

"What is it, Jess?!" the ginger boy yells back. 

"She's here! She's here!" Jessica squeals. "Come on, you morons!" 

She grabs Ben's arm and drags her to Rey. 

"Rey! REY!" Jessica hollers and waves at her, like they were childhood friends and this whole situation wouldn't be a terrible joke gone wrong. 

Ben reels, like a horse, but Jessica doesn't take no for an answer when a good drama can be stir fried just in seconds. 

"So glad you could make it, girl!" Jessica gushes and promptly presses two kisses on Rey's cheeks. "You look fucking fab."

To say the least, Rey looks  _ bewildered.  _

"Euhm. Thanks. You too. Look fab," she stammers, entirely avoiding looking at Ben. 

"You made Ben 60 bucks richer, Rey," Jessica tattles, because  _ of course  _ she would, "we made a bet that you wouldn't come. Ben was the only one who thought you would."

Rey pins him with a heavy gaze that he has to avoid. 

"Is that so?" she asks measuredly. 

"Yes," Jessica agrees enthusiastically, the booze making her unaware of the charged air, "Ben's got some sixth sense. Or did he convince you to come?" 

"No. We haven't talked at all." 

That's right, Ben thinks. They've  _ never _ talked. At all. Ever. He smiles distractedly in the general direction of Rey. 

He feels a big body move next to him. 

"I'm Anthony," his rival says, sticking out his hand. He can see the blonde guy's wearing his game face, that he's out here to score a point today. 

Rey takes his hand, squeezing it. 

"Rey," she announces formally. 

Ben doesn't care to examine why her cool dismissal makes his heart flutter. It just does. 

Jessica suggests them to get inside. On the way, Hux grumbles something about not letting Rey drown. But Ben hardly pays attention, lagging behind.  _ What does Rey think of him now? Now that she knows he made a bet on her turning up or not. Does she hate him?  _ He hoped to appear absolutely neutral, disinterested even. So much for that. 

Tony is onto  _ both _ girls now, Jessica's glowing under his attention, Rey's accepting it with cynical amusement. 

He drifts off, unbearing to spend one second longer in the vicinity of Rey. Usually, he's at the thick of the party, but today feels like torture. Poe finds him somewhere in the kitchen, stuffing the 20 dollar bill in his back pocket when he resists taking it. 

The joint is off the table, so he drinks half-heartedly, nursing a beer or two and making conversations he doesn't really want to. Occasionally, he involuntarily searches for Rey, always finding her with some guy talking to her. Jessica dumped her quite fast in favour of Tony and since neither of them is to be seen, Ben figures his plan worked. 

He makes his way to the kitchen, reaching in the side by side fridge for another beer. Breaking the aluminium surface, he hisses it open and takes a deep drag from the bottle even before turning around. 

"They say you can fuck," says a deep female voice with a British accent. 

He chokes on his drink. The bubbles burn his nose from the inside and he promptly spits out the rest, barely hearing as it lands with a splash on the marble floor while he's gulping for air. In disbelief, he turns around, finding Rey standing behind him. She's leaning against the kitchen counter, her hands crossed. Her stare is hard. 

So it's an accusation. 

"What the hell?!" Ben growls, still coughing a little. 

"Jessica, and Tony and —" 

"Shut up,  _ swotty, _ " Ben hisses, "I don't care  _ who _ told you this." He wipes off his mouth annoyedly, checking if he has soiled himself. Well. At least not that. Then, he looks at Rey with the rage of a thousand burning suns. 

"What the fuck is this question."

She doesn't miss the way his eyes betray him and sweep the slight curve of her hips that comes from her posture. The way his gaze lingers on her breasts and her mouth. 

"You like this, don't you," she asks lowly. 

He pins her down with an angry stare. Yes. He damn well likes what he sees but he'll never —

"I know you do," she continues. "You think you're subtle enough, but I  _ see _ you looking at me. In class. I know you want me. The  _ pariah _ ."

He remains stubbornly silent. He can't lie his way through a truth so thick. 

Rey steps a little closer, batting her eyelashes. 

"Is my deduction correct,  _ Solo? _ " 

He fucking hates her maybe, but also those red lips and the skirt and —

" _ Yes _ ," he admits it like a warning, approaching her, "yes it is."

Rey smirks. 

"Seems like being  _ swotty _ has its advantages."

They are so close now that he can see the spots where her makeup has rubbed off, feel a what of cheap, florary perfume. A loud river of people whirl around them, but they stand like two rocks too stubborn to be washed away by the currents. 

"What do you want."

"I want to get over it," Rey says, a little too resolutely, like she didn’t want to lose her nerve before she finishes the sentence, "I don't want to feel like a loser anymore."

Ben thinks he understands but he can't just quite believe what she's asking from him. He opens his mouth to ask for clarification but Rey beats him to it. 

"You can fuck. You fancy me. One plus one equals to what I came here for."

Even as she speaks, her face runs red now, her bravado breaking. 

"Rey, you don't have to —" 

"Don't fucking  _ mansplain  _ me what I have to do!" Rey snaps. "I know what I want. This is the least you can do. After all the shit your fucking  _ friends _ pulled on me —" 

"I never did any of those to you!" 

"Oh, didn't you?" The vitriol burns in her words. "The Mouse?" 

Ben winces. He named her that. 

"That's what I thought."

"Why me, then? Why not someone you actually like?" he argues. He hates how panicked he comes off. 

Rey purses her lips. 

"It's not personal."

Ben sighs irately. 

"Very well,  _ Oliver _ ." He takes a big gulp of the remainder of his beer, eyeing Rey. She straightens her back and just out her chin, even though her eyes are a little anxious. 

"Let's get this over with."

He takes the beer with him, fuming. She wants impersonal sex? Pure fucking? He can give her that. He's an expert on purely physical. A fucking doctor of no strings attached. 

He doesn't bother checking if she's following him. She wants to be impersonal. Fine. He could hover over her and silently protect her from anyone, glare at people who think they have a right to look at her. But she wants  _ this.  _ So this is what she'll get. 

Cutting his way through the dancing crowd, he makes his way upstairs, to the guest room he often occupied when he and Hux were younger and had a sleepover. 

The room is used now for storage, filled to the brink with stuff Hux wanted to keep safe, and a few cartons of beer. He flicks on the lights on the bedside table and assesses the situation. Then shoves off some random clothes from the bed to make room. 

What the fuck is he doing. He shouldn't do this. He should tell Rey to fuck off and hold onto her sweet virginity until she finds a nice guy that treats her well and takes her on dates and buys her books for at least three months before he very humbly asks for permission to kiss her. 

Seconds tick by, and he idles, turning in circles around the same thoughts. 

"Wow, what a mess," Rey observes. 

For Ben, it sounds like she isn't speaking about the room. He turns around to look at her. The color is high on her cheeks, and she nervously tugs on her sleeve, just one little tug, until it covers her hands. 

What the fuck is he doing. 

"Are you sure you —" 

Rey cuts him off with an angry flash of her eyes. 

Ben gives up. If this is what she wants… Better take the matter in his own hands before she finds someone else. Like Anthony who wouldn't give a fuck about her wellbeing. He drinks a deep drag and shamelessly lets his eyes wander around every little detail he can see. For example, the way her neck is so delicate and long. 

"Are you even above 18?"

Rey rolls her eyes and she strides into the room, closing the door behind her. 

"What are you, Solo? Fifty?" 

"But  _ are _ you?" he presses. He doesn't know why. He didn't care before, he doesn't care now. He himself wasn't nowhere near 18 for crying out loud. 

"I am. Since April." She says and approaches him. He has to look down to keep looking in her eyes. A tiny little mouse and — my god. He's going to fuck her. Worse yet. He  _ wants to  _ if he's honest with himself. He wishes it weren't like this… but it is. 

The beer is still half full and he gulps yet another portion of it. He's pleasantly tipsy. Which means he can go  _ for hours.  _

"You ever done any of this before?" 

Rey shakes her head. 

"How do you do this usually?" she counters. Collecting information. Studying. 

He licks his lips. 

"Usually," he murmurs, watching her red mouth, "usually there is kissing."

Rey's attention slides on his lips. Observing. Contemplating. 

_ Ain't gonna find this in books, sweetheart.  _

"But I think we should skip that because  _ you _ don't want personal," Ben says. "And trust me. Kissing  _ is _ personal."

So, so personal. In the beginning, he liked it even more than the actual penetrative sex. The first moment when the girl trembles against him, or when they finally give in and devour each other. The gentle, seamless slide of tongues. The first real taste of who's who. 

"Alright," Rey agrees somewhat taken aback. Clears her throat. "What's next then?" 

"You approach this like a fucking math equation," Ben mumbles. 

"It's rather biology," she corrects him, grumbling, and pushes her glasses up her nose.

Ben titters. 

"Here," he juts the beer can at her. "Finish this. And stop lecturing me, Oliver. You came here for a lesson, now pay attention."

Rey takes the nearly empty can and downs it. Ben takes the trash from her hand and places it on a cupboard. 

"Close the door."

She hesitates. 

Ben rolls his eyes.  _ Now _ is she second guessing herself? 

"For fuck's  _ sake, Oliver, _ you've never been to a house party either?" Stupid question. He knows she hasn't. She still shakes her head. "It's almost midnight, people are gonna look for a place to fuck any second," Ben explains. "I'm guessing you don't want them to disturb us?" 

"No."

"Good! Then close the fucking door, please. Unless you'd rather not do this after all."

Rey doesn't hesitate then, almost jumping to turn the key. The click is barely audible above the music thumping through the wood. 

They stare at each other. So. This is going to happen. All his dirty fantasies offered to him on a silver platter. He never bothered to imagine how he would actually conquer her. Only the fucking. The things he'd do to her. The ways he'd make her mewl against him. 

It's almost surreal how he doesn't have to court her. She throws herself away. Just like that. He hates the fact that she does it, but it's 2020 and virginity is a social construct, and if she wants to do it the first time with a guy she borderline hates, in a house party on a pile of beer cans, he's not going to judge her. At least it's him. At least he knows what she needs. 

"Turn off the lights," Rey says. 

"I can't fuck in pitch black."

"Well. Try."

Ben sighs, obeying. 

He loses his sight for a minute. Briefly, he's wondering if Rey's going to stab him now for all the shit he and his friends pulled on her. But as his eyes adjust, he sees that the room isn't completely dark. The full moon's light illuminates the outlines of the furniture. And Rey. Ben reaches out for her arm, yanking the girl against him. She's a head shorter, fitting perfectly underneath his chin. 

"I th- thought —" she stammers, her hand resting on his pectorals, "no kissing."

"That's right," he murmurs and turns her around, so her back is flush against him, "no kissing. On the mouth."

With that, he snakes his hand around her, trapping her with his arms. She squirms against him, her round little ass rubbing his half hard cock through his jeans. He presses his nose into her hair and feels her exhale shakily. Then, he bites down gently on her neck. 

Her body jerks, her knees give out and she clutches his arm for support. 

"God," he chuckles, "you're so freaking sensitive."

"Sh-shut up," she breathes, and gives him another shudder as his teeth graze her skin. 

"Nah. Not the talking, Oliver," he croons, and feels up her breasts through her bra, "how else am I going to explain how to do this?" 

He finds her nipple and rubs it through her bra, while licking along the shell of her ear, and placing a kiss at the junction of it. She tastes of salt, of the hot summer and something that's her skin's aroma. Her hair is soft and her shampoo's scent lingers on the tendrils, making him want to drown in lilies. 

"You can just —  _ ah _ — just show. Me?" 

She pants. She actually pants and chafes herself on his body, still clutching his hand. 

"You seem distracted. Are you taking notes? Do you feel how you rub your little pussy against me?" 

She stills, gulping. 

"No,  _ don't stop,  _ Oliver. That means you're wet. You're wet and willing. Will you let me check it? Only for science?" 

He places a kiss on her pulse point, relishing the feeling of her body tremble in his arms. 

"Y-yes, you may."

"Thank you," he lilts. His hand slides down her thighs, below the skirt that's been tormenting him since his sexual awakening. He thinks he'll pass out from the sheer excitement that he gets to do what he's imagined so many times. 

"Are you with me?" he murmurs into her ear, half talking to himself, purposefully holding her even tighter. She's so — fragile,  _ breakable  _ under his arms, he could squeeze more and… 

"Yeah," she exhales, drawing him back into the moment that doesn't feel like reality at all. 

"Good. Now," he says and his hand continues its path upward, skin on skin, "you can feel that you parted your thighs." He carcasses the whisper soft skin on the inside which causes her to yelp and trap his hand between her legs. 

Ben laughs. It's unexpected and genuine, entirely betraying this self-assured, headstrong persona Rey's trying to project. He hugs her tighter for whatever reason. (Maybe because he's overcome with an urge to never let her go.)

"Ticklish?" 

He shouldn't sound so affectionate as he does. This isn't personal. 

"Yes. Sorry, I — I didn't know." 

"You never — you never touched yourself?" he wonders as he inches closer to her pussy. It's getting warmer and damper as he approaches his destination. His cock is now hard, and the way Rey's pressing against him, he knows she can feel it too. He wonders if it frightens her. He wonders if she's excited. If she watched porn and now gets exactly the size she saw on tape. 

"I don't — that's none," she sputters, "— is this  _ relevant _ ?" 

"It could be," he says while his hand caresses the other leg, too, "you could tell me what you like." 

If this wasn't in a house party, he could hear his callous scrape against her silky skin. 

"I thought you knew how to do this."

"Not with you. No."

"Then let me go!" She abruptly starts fighting against his grip. 

"Shh, Oliver. Let me learn," he murmurs patiently, holding her writhing body still with sheer power. If she leaves now she'll just find another guy. He doesn't want her to find another guy. He doesn't want her to find  _ anyone else.  _

"Just let me learn you," he pleads softly, with his lips brushing the crown of her head in a ghost of a kiss. "I do this often," he says to reassure her but it only makes his chest hurt, makes him wish he wasn't doing this so often, so he blabbers on, "I'm a fast learner."

Rey, apparently appeased, relaxes again in his grip, waiting with bated breath for him to proceed. Her ribcage expands with shallow, rapid inhales against his body. 

His finger presses down on her pussy, cupping it through the fabric. His hand covers her from the front to her ass. She fits in his  _ palm.  _ A soft whine escape _ s  _ his throat as he thinks of the implications. How  _ tight _ she must be… Oh God. He caresses her mound with his thumb as if to apologise for wrecking her in advance. Her head tilts to the side at that and he feels her pussy clench on nothing beneath her panties. Her breathing is just as heavy as his. With purposeful motion from back to the front, he rubs her, feeling her legs give way to accommodate the width of his palm. She bucks in his hand with a heavy, surprised gasp. 

"There. There you go." He keeps rubbing his hand back and forth, letting her nether lips part on this middle finger. Her clit rolls beneath the clothing she's wearing and she whimpers softly, chasing after the friction on her own accord. 

"Now. Let me feel it." 

The millisecond he stops she whines a short-lived protest. It doesn't last. His finger carefully slides beneath the clothing, meeting her bare sex. She takes a sharp breath. 

"You shaved?" he asks, astonished. He doesn't know why he expected to find wiry hair down there. He was prepared to give her whatever she wanted either way but now… this opened his imagination. 

"I — I come prepared," she explains, nigh offended that she would let one detail miss her attention. 

"Oh, you'll come alright," Ben answers smugly. Rey's condescending snort dies in her throat when his finger swipes along her opening. Yes. She's sticky with her own fluids, slippery as he spreads it. 

"Feel this? Feel how wet you are?" 

Rey nods, but doesn't answer. 

"Have you felt this before? When you touched yourself?" 

Again, just a nod, and some heavy panting, as she hangs on his arm, nearly doubling over. He carefully circles her clit, feeling every involuntary spasm of her body against his when he finds the right spot with the right pressure. Her legs shake and he's starting to feel her weight.

"More?"

She nods. 

"Words?" 

She gulps heavily. 

"Yes. More."

"Are you going to come? Come for me?  _ Prepared _ ?" he teases. He can't deny the way he's feeling a little too smug about his performance. Sure, Rey doesn't have a comparison, but he can feel her pussy gush on his hand, and that's a big thing only from some dry humping and kisses on her neck. 

"I — no. Not yet."

"Way to kill the mood, Oliver," Ben huffs. Then asks, "Could I try something different?  _ Can I eat you out? _ " 

Rey gasps sharply, like he'd found her diary. She forgets to call him out on the grammar, and that is to say something about her state of distress. 

"You've thought of this, haven't you?" he murmurs while slowly circling her clit, "How it would feel like to have a man's tongue lick you there… How soft and warm it would be. Better than a big dick splitting you in half?" 

She doesn't answer him, stubborn to death, but her pussy does,  _ dripping.  _

"Holy shit, Oliver," he chuckles, "you little perv. You're  _ soaking  _ my hand."

"Y-you don't have to, I've heard guys don't like to —" 

"I  _ want to. I'm dying  _ to do it. Being the first one to know how your holier than thou little cunt tastes like…" He licks below her ear and she shudders. " _ Let me lick your pussy. _ "

Rey nods, whimpering. 

This is way better than he imagined. 

While he maneuvers her to lie down on the bed, Ben wonders why he's suddenly wanting to do this. Why he's kneeling on the floor, between her legs. He's  _ never  _ done this before. Not that he'll tell her  _ that.  _ As it seems, Rey likes to believe he knows just about everything about sex, and, the swotty little creature only wants to learn from the best. 

He uncovers her lower half unceremoniously. The blessed plaid skirt… In the dark, he can't see what kind of underwear he's about to ruin. He imagines it's plain and cotton, but his touch finds silk — just plain silk. 

"You've really planned for this," he mutters, shaking his head. 

"Of course I have," Rey scoffs.

She toes off her shoes, leaving her in her ridiculously long socks and her panties. 

"How long you've been planning to fuck me?" Ben prods, his head thumping with the idea.

Sweet, innocent, Rey sitting silently in class, bored by the math exercise and daydreaming about his cock — just as he's been daydreaming about her pussy…

_ Fuck.  _ His dick twitches in his pants impatiently. But he reins his instincts. 

He slides his hands up her calf. It's soft, and pliant above the line of her socks, not like the legs of the cheerleaders of pure, hard muscle. He likes it. It's  _ different.  _ It makes him feel differently, too. Like he's too strong for her, like he's —

"It's not about  _ you, _ " Rey grumbles. "You're just a means to an end."

Well, that's gonna keep him from nutting in his pants, that's sure. But why? Rey wasn't anything more to him, either. A pretty, dirty fantasy to get himself off fast and hard. Often. Very often. 

So why does this feel so personal? Why is there a pang in his chest? 

"If you say so…" he shrugs off her remark, unwilling to get sentimental. 

Then, in the dark, leans closer. Her skin smells airy and clean, and he paves his way up to her center with open mouthed kisses that turn into bites. Her flesh bunches beneath his teeth, molding into his mouth. Like a cake, like a — a cloud of tart or whipped cream. 

In his grip, Rey writhes discreetly. Her hands are pinned to her side rigidly, fists balled. He hears them thud on the bed with restraint. 

"Relax, Oliver," he murmurs, "this'll be good." 

He hopes, at least. But he can't deny how fast his heart is hammering, or how he's working up sweat and all his clothes feel too tight for his body. He's about to eat pussy.  _ Rey's  _ pussy. He wishes he'd done it before so he knows what he's doing. 

"Can I take off your panties?" he asks to buy some time. 

"It's  _ may, _ " Rey scoffs and he bites her lightly just below her aching pussy, rubbing his nose into her sex to shut her up. She yelps. "Yes,  _ yes,  _ do it!" 

"Oliver…" he growls. Fuck. Fuck. He inhales shakily, muttering thanks to some deity above that Rey insisted on turning off the lights and his nervousness can remain undetected. In the dark, he blindly slides his hands up until he finds the top of the fabric. Rey lifts her hips and he guides the superfluous garment down her long, long, slender legs. 

"It's cold," Rey complains, even though it's the height of the summer and Ben's already working up a sweat in his shirt. He takes it off and tosses it away. When he hikes her legs on his shoulders, her skin touches his, naked and unfiltered, the scent of her cunt filling his nose. 

"Then I'll better warm you."

"Your pick-up lines are abis -  _ maaaaal —"  _

His tongue on her pussy makes her squeal the rest of the word. First, it's just her nether lips. How clever the evolution is, it shoots through his head, but he wants to know what a pussy -  _ no,  _ \-  _ this _ particular pussy tastes like. 

So he pushes her legs apart with his hands, and licks. 

Her cunt is salty and sweet, a heady, strong mixture of essence. He — he wants to backtrack for a second but Rey blindly claws at his back for purchase, for help which she doesn't find. Her nails brand him but she doesn't apologise, too busy moaning as he licks again at her clit. 

Then, her fingers settle in his hair, grabbing a fistful with each hand — and she pulls him closer, where she wants him. She's pure and honest in her desire. She takes what she wants. Makes him give her what she needs. 

Ben whimpers. 

His eyes roll back into his skull at the pleasure-pain. And her taste, as he gets used to it. The texture of her skin. He savors her like a good sommelier, surprised to taste that her aroma changes as her clit rolls under his tongue, getting sweeter. She keeps him pinned at the right spot by his hair and rocks her hips against his face. He's suffocating, nose too long to properly be able to breathe. It's crammed up, or he lays it on her smooth mound… so, taking an idea from porn, he pushes her legs further up, tilting her hips. 

"Solo!" she yelps, and he shuts her up by a strong suck on her little clit. Really, it's not that hard, apparently, if her wanton sounds are any indication. Maybe he's good at something else than football, maybe doing it so often isn't all bad… He keeps on suckling, trying to flick the firm nod with his tongue. She likes circular motion with firm pressure more than light up and down, he notes, and that's exactly what he's giving her. Her sounds are not exactly modest, sighing and gasping and wailing. The loud music will still cover it all up. Ben suddenly hates it. He wants the whole house to hear what he's doing to Rey Oliver. That he's making her  _ blabber nonsense _ , Rey Oliver, who always knows the right answer. That he's making her quiver. 

Her grip on his skull gets firmer, and he takes a deep breath and gives all he has, moving with her body in synch until she's flying apart. Rey, having an orgasm at his hands.  _ On his tongue.  _

She wails his name — it's  _ Ben, Ben Ben  _ instead of  _ Solo —  _ like a cry for help, like she's frightened and he reaches blindly for her wrist, anchoring her as the tide washes over her. 

The sweet little thing writhes with the power of it, her nails raking on his back, adding more red lines to his flesh, the other hand ripping out his hair. She's using him. Instead of annoyance, something heartstopping dawns on him. 

— she  _ needs him _ . She  _ trusts him.  _

Rey Oliver. 

The girl who never needed anyone, the girl who's elusive, who doesn't let anyone closer than an arm's length… She came to  _ him _ to take care of her. 

She trusts him. 

He's heaving with the weight of it, or maybe it's the oxygen deprivation he suffered between her legs — either way, he's just as riled up as Rey who's gulping for air between frail susurration of  _ oh my god.  _

He wipes his mouth, and sits back on his heels, admiring his accomplishment in the faint light of the full moon. Legs tangled weakly, Rey breathes heavily through the thumping of the music that fills the air instead of silence. 

"Oliver?" 

Wow. He barely can believe how concerned he sounds.

"'m good," she mumbles, "what's — what's the next step?" 

"You don't have to —" 

"I told you," she grumbles, slurring her words, clearly not ready for anything, "it's not  _ personal. Just fuck me already. _ "

It hurts too much to think straight. It hurts so much that the pain flames into  _ rage.  _ Burning hot rage. 

_ It's not personal.  _ He fucking held her through her very first orgasm, he  _ gave her  _ her very first orgasm — and she thinks it's not personal. 

But it  _ is _ very personal to him. 

He hates this thought. 

He hates it. 

"Why didn't you say so,  _ Mouse, _ " he snarls, grabbing her legs and turning her over, ignoring her surprised yelp, "I could have put my dick in you twenty minutes ago."

He pulls her hips roughly to the edge of the bed, rearranging her. Her body is rigid again, and a small part of him screams at him to  _ stop _ , but she doesn't peep a sound and he doesn't bother to ask her again. 

"Do you have a condom?" he asks,  _ spits,  _ really. He can't think straight. 

_ It's not personal.  _

_ A means to an end.  _

"Euhm — it's," she stammers and shifts her weight to twist but he grabs her roughly by her neck, stilling her movements. 

"You stay like this, Mouse. Where is it?" 

"In — in my purse, by the — the door. No! On the drawer!" 

She panics like she was held at gunpoint. Ben stomps on the better side of him.  _ It's not personal.  _ He moves blindly, reaching for the item. He knocks over the empty beer can and bumps his hand into another ornament before he finds her bag. He digs into it, feeling the little squared foil next to her phone. 

"What brand?"

"Durex!" she squeals. 

"Did you get the extra large?" 

"Ah —  _ what?"  _ against his instructions, she turns around. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Solo," she scoffs. 

Ben goes very, very still. 

"You think I'm joking?" 

"I — yes. It's not a contest, the average male penis erected is —" 

He pulls off his zipper before she can finish the sentence. Apparently, this girl only believes her own eyes and nothing else. 

"Turn on the fucking lights, Oliver."

"I don't —" 

He does it for her, pulling his phone from his pocket, and directs the flashlight on his dick. 

"Holy sh —" 

"What's the statistic for  _ this _ , Oliver?" 

"I —" she gulps, "maybe — maybe 5% of the population?" she guesses, dazed. 

There is a heavy silence, while she gapes dumbly at his cock. 

"It's not going to fit," she concludes with a slight panic, but with a disappointed sag of her shoulders. 

"I'll make it fit."

"But —" 

"No buts. Turns around. On all fours."

Surprisingly, she doesn't argue and instead does exactly what he told her to do. When she's settled, on her hands and knees, Ben pulls out a Trojan Magnum from his wallet. 

"You're in luck, I'm prepared for greedy girls like you." He opens the foil and carefully observes the direction of the rubber. "In need of an emergency fucking… Like," he pinches the tip and rolls it on, "like I'm some drive through where they can get their pussy pounded."

Rey stirs. 

"Ben —" 

"Shut up, Swotty,” he cuts her short, adjusting the condom on his length, “Imma give you what you wanted. Nothing personal, don’t worry. Just good, rough fucking."

He pushes her back further down, nudges her legs wider apart, then, carefully, lines himself up. Despite the white hot rage, he's conscious that he'll  _ take Rey Oliver's virginity.  _ He's never been with a virgin before. 

Is it going to be different? 

He takes a deep breath. 

He'll find out soon. 

He guides his pulsing cock to her entrance. Her orgasm left her wet and pliant, that much he feels when he inches inside. Slowly. She squeals, even though his dick barely breached her entrance. Ben grips her body, her narrow hips and holds her still. He takes a deep breath to calm himself.

"Ben,  _ Ben —"  _

"Don't argue, Oliver," he grits out, calling on every bit of discipline he developed as an athlete not to just  _ plunge  _ into her inviting heat, "stay still for me." 

"It's — it's — not gonna fit, not gonna fit, Solo!" she panics. 

She panics and her cunt closes down on him. The previous progress he made, maybe two inches, evaporates. 

"Oliver," he says sternly, "relax."

Without thinking, he kneads on her shoulder with his right hand. She gasps, legs widening and he slips inside just another half an inch. He won't stop now. He will fit his cock in this girl, even if it takes hours. He massages her neck, presses down on a nasty knot in her back. She moans, settling on her elbows, offering herself to him. Like a good kitten. Take her by her neck and she's pliant as butter in the sun. 

His cock slides in her cunt. He pulls back. Slides in. Pulls back, slides in. Every time it’s a little easier, a little faster, even though he goes at the pace of the making of a stop motion movie. Frame by frame, waiting for her to adjust. It might not be personal (for Rey) but he doesn’t want to hurt her. 

Her panicked gasps gradually turn into a kittenish meowing, little whimpers. She's silent, save for that. 

"See," he purrs, relishing the easy slide of his cock in her cunt, "already so much better. Your little pussy knows how to take me."

He steals away her retort by a sharp thrust — a thrust which opens her up for him, and Ben finds his hips unexpectedly flush with her ass while she writhes on his cock. 

"Oh  _ G—hoodd, _ " Rey keens, bordering on a shriek. Her hand bunches up the duvet. 

"It's in. All the way, Oliver," he informs her, thinking that he'll go insane if he has to remain still for another second, "all the way,  _ — _ " he mumbles, his hips pulling back automatically, then thrusting, " _ — in." _

"Oh God," is all she can answer, and not very convincingly. She says it like a great doom and too much goodness looms over her at the same time, like she's exhausted and curious. 

Too many emotions which Ben doesn't care to decipher.  _ It's not personal,  _ he reminds himself desperately, when he pulls back and sinks into her over and over again, when he grabs her hair and holds her still while he fucks into her lazily. (How can this  _ not  _ be personal. It’s Rey Oliver. Even a math class is personal. But he pushes that thought away.)

The rigidness of her body gradually melts away. She surrenders to him and, if her satisfied whimpers are any indication, she might actually be enjoying this. He might be just projecting. Her pussy is like she was made for him. Every time he slides in, he has to screw his eyes shut. This little, fragile body parts for him, takes him, rewards him. Rey Oliver’s cunt is heaven.

He can go for hours, now that he's drunk, he knows it from experience. And this pussy is where he wants to spend days and weeks. He wishes so desperately that he could see where they are joined, where he disappears into her. His erection doesn't waver, and he hopes the condom lasts until his stamina does. 

_ Would she suck his cock if she can't make her come with her cunt?  _

He grabs her ass. A little bony, but enough flesh so he can drill into her, increasing pace. 

" _ Solo, _ " Rey whines. 

"I heard —," he pants, "that girls can't come on their first time." His hips still inside of her. Her cunt clenches on him and he hisses. "But I wanna make you come on my cock, Oliver."

"Mmh," she acknowledges him noncommittally, arching her back for him. He feels her pulsate around him, helplessly trying to bring him to thrusting, her little pussy. But he stays still, buried inside of her as deep as it goes. Poor thing. 

"It's not personal, Oliver, I hope you know. I just like my girls throughly fucked. Have a reputation to uphold."

The more he's still in her, the more she dances, trying to grind into him. He resists. 

" _ Whatever,"  _ she spits, a sign of frustration that she can't do more than he allows her to. 

He fucks into her once. Hard, so she jolts. 

"Touch yourself, Oliver. Like you do at home. When you think of my cock."

"Solo!" she shrieks, outraged, trying to pull away. He holds her down with his body weight. 

"I'm gonna fuck a nice orgasm out of you, Oliver," he growls in her ear, sending his hips against her ass. "Won't regret that you chose me."

_ Gonna be your perfect gigolo.  _

He grinds into her, although there's really no more place for her body to give, forcing a smothered whine out of her. 

_ "Now touch yourself." _

He doesn't believe his own ears when he hears a rustle and her hand snakes between her legs. The second she rolls her clit with her fingers she becomes impossibly tight, her whole body twitching. 

Ben groans, pounding into her. 

"See? Just like home. Only — with my cock — in your tight — little — hole.  _ Oh God." _

Rey comes, without a warning, loudly, hands rubbing herself furiously. She whines and sobs, her body pulsates. 

It's nothing short of a wonder. Magic happening. A shooting star falling on earth. He’s wishing upon it. Wishing that this could be personal.

He feels her, mesmerised, and lets go. He gets to have five glorious, unforgettable hard thrusts before Rey protests. 

"Ben,  _ Ben, please, please, no more, no more,"  _ she whines. 

"Fuck!" he growls, mourning the earth shattering orgasm he was sure he was about to have. But she said no more, so he pulls out, fists the sopping condom on his cock, pumping himself. His other hand pushes Rey down by her head. 

"Stay fucking still," he warns, and peels off the spent, loosened rubber quickly, fucking his fist. He pulls up her shirt and comes on her back, covering her in his cum. Marking her. Ruining her. 

_ Soiling her.  _

She doesn't protest. He doesn't speak. There's only the distorted music from behind the door and their loud breathing. 

He doesn't ask her if she's okay even if all his instincts want to. He doesn't move to wipe off her back even if it disturbs him. He came enough times on his own chest to know that being covered in jizz isn't for everyone. 

_ It's not personal.  _

She, finally, turns around, rolling as smoothly as a cube, wiping her back on the sheets. 

She rests for a few seconds before pulling her limbs together, sitting up. 

"Can I — can I have my panties," is all she asks. Her voice is flat and distant. 

"I don't know where they are," he answers dismissively. It's the truth. But to search them is an effort, requires him to care, and that's  _ personal _ .  _ This _ — is not personal. 

Rey nods distractedly, cutting her losses. Her body moves like she's steered by a particularly inapt marionette player. Libs tangling, totally uncoordinated, fighting to find balance. A newborn giraffe is more graceful. 

Ben watches, dazed, not understanding what's happening. Girls usually don’t flee from him after sex. Sure, it’s no strings attached, but at least there is some common courtesy. A kiss, maybe, a few giggles, a glass of water. His brain can’t catch up with his reality, so starkly different from this, not even when Rey sways to the door and opens it, walking out on unstable legs. 

He stares after her dumbly. 

He can't believe she walked away just like that. Not even a goodbye. His brain seemingly refuses to understand what he’s just seen and spur him into action. He should run after her. Take her to the bathroom and wash her. Clean her up. Call an Uber and get her home. 

Personal things. 

So he does none of that. 

He doesn't have the strength to move. He feels empty and used. Run over, even. 

When he eventually turns on the flashlight of his phone, he sees his hand and cock are red. With blood. Like he's a murderer. His stomach revolts, ready to throw out its contents. He heaves, pushing back the sensation. He reasons with himself that this is normal, that he heard about this in class that - 

Who is he kidding. He just fucked a virgin in  _ cold blood.  _ Quite literally. He  _ is  _ a murderer. Even if she asked for it. This could never  _ not  _ be personal. For him, at least. He never thought he could so much as kiss Rey Oliver. But alas, he just took her virginity. 

Now he thinks he’ll throw up for real. He doubles over - only to see Rey's purse on the ground. With all her belongings. 

Phone. Money. Cards. 

She's out there. All alone. Without anything. Not even panties under her skirt. Blood on her legs.

" _ Godsfuckingdammit, Oliver _ ."

  
  
  
  
  



	2. The Whole Nine Yards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He fears something deep down. He fears that what he feels isn't a crush anymore. Maybe it never has been. 
> 
> Maybe it's always been more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warn you, Ben thinks some things which are completely unfounded but he beats himself up over it.   
> If you want to know more, check the end.

He’s staring at algebra once again. 

Once again, he doesn’t understand shit. Once again, Rey Oliver explains the solution. He listens to her hastily spit out the words in one breath. He knows her legs twist under her in a pretzel without looking and she’s tugging the sleeves of her pullover to cover her hands, balling them up in her small fists. 

Everything feels like a sickening deja vu. Like being trapped in a dystopian movie where he’s forced to relive one single day over and over again.

But it’s not the same day. He’s not even the same person. Because now he knows what Rey Oliver’s cunt tastes like, what kind of sounds she makes when she comes. How her pussy under that same brown plaid skirt she usually wears is just a little less tight than it used to be — because he made it give space for his cock. She gave it to him and he took it, this space that used to be her virginity. Now it’s his — or maybe _he_ is hers. 

Either way. It’s not the same. 

He risks a glance at her — and as if she felt the touch of his gaze, she sits up straighter, arching her back and jutting out her ass and Ben needs to leave to the bathroom for a good fifteen minutes to find his bearings. If he splashes his face with cold water and then shoves his icy hands on his misbehaving cock, that’s entirely his business. 

_________________

_He hastily wipes off his hands on the duvet_ — _it’s ruined either way with his cum smeared into it, next to a predictable spot of her blood. He doesn’t think of that, tucking himself back into his pants. He should clean up, probably, and he vows to do it later_ — _after he tracked Rey down._

_He grabs her purse and charges out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Best not let anyone see the crime scene._

_The crowd is thick and it pushes back against his way too sober movements harshly, making him fight his way through molasse. Ben has nightmares like this, sometimes. When he tries to run but he can’t get a grip on the ground and is forced to swim awkwardly through the air like an astronaut._

_But he’s a football player in the real-life, and he’s not asleep, even if everything feels like a terrible nightmare at the moment. He fights his way through the party with force, leveraging his build, tossing people aside like swatting away flies._

_His eyes scan the crowd anxiously for Rey._

_She’s nowhere to be seen though._

____________________

Rey bumps into him at the door on Monday, trying to make a swift exit just when he's about to enter. She bounces off him like a ball, he reaches to catch her at the speed of lightning. But she's already steadied herself on a desk and is bouncing back. His fingers brush her arm. She winces under his finger, recoiling from his touch. The contact sears into his mind. Then, she apologizes, and tactfully slips by him turning to her side. 

She doesn't look at him once. 

This is how Ben knows she's recognized him.

____________________

_His vision feels clouded. Constricted. Blurred. Outside, on Hux's front porch, the building nausea hits reset on his stomach. He heaves with the nerves of it._

_What if he's done something terribly wrong to Rey?_

_His mind is zeroed down on her absence. What if she started walking? Rey seems like a madwoman who'd do that. If she fled the room like that. He starts running, too riled up to think to get his car._

_His breath syncs with his steps and everything slots into place after a mile or so._

_She's gone. She fled from him. The best thing he can do is leave her purse somewhere she can find it._

____________________

Jessica invites Rey to sit with them for lunch on Wednesday. She tries to decline politely, muttering something about a revision for history but Jessica doesn't let her off her hook so fast. Ben hears the exact moment Rey's excuses run out and relents rather than torture herself with another series of lies. 

His heart drums when he sneaks a glance at her. He catches her eyes flitting away from him. 

Lunch is awfully long that day. He's trying not to visibly stare at Rey. But she's so close and she smells like peaches this time, not lilies, making him want to know all of her different scents. Her only make-up is some discreet mascara. He likes to think she's wearing it for him, although he knows for a fact she doesn't. She wears it every day. 

Jessica fills the void with chatter and her own voice and occasionally, trying to ask Rey about the party. 

"What happened after you went to get a drink? After Tony pulled out the — you know."

Rey clears her throat, staring a hole into the table. 

"I — I went home. Had to… Erhm… get up early. For church."

The whole table freezes. They stare at Rey and she stares at the table and Ben is staring at her greedily now that he's found an excuse, memorizing every little detail he can — how her lips are thin and visibly chewed in different shades of inviting pink, the faint freckles on her nose he hasn't had the chance to discover so far, the pointy nose, her —

And then Jessica _wheezes._

"For _church!_ " she hollers, laughing so hard her tears roll. 

The whole table relaxes, erupting in a series of laughter, following Jessica's cue. Rey's shoulders visibly sag. She inhales, letting a small smile creep on her face. The relief glows on her. 

Ben watches, unable to look away. She comes alive right in front of his eyes, so very beautiful like early sunrise. 

_Just once, look at me, just once._

She does, flitting her eyes away as if his sight burned her.

It probably does. 

____________________

_Ben just wants to go home. Probably cry. There's literally nothing he can do to fix this mess — he doesn't know where Rey lives, he's not her contact on social media, and in all case, he doesn't want to harass her._

_What would he say? I’ve got your purse? Why does he have her purse?_

_He jogs back to the party which, at 4 am, doesn't show any signs of slowing down._

_Handed the perfect excuse, Ben does the next best thing he can to forget: he drinks and forces himself to talk with people, laugh and joke. (He doesn't touch any other girls that night.) In an abandoned moment, he even gets into the pool, as dirty as he is. Washing off his sins. Isn't this how you Christen someone?_

_The sun rises in a deep red, beautiful and unavoidable. He stares at it from the pool and realizes that he failed to forget._

____________________

Rey continues to ignore him. It's slowly making him crawl out of his skin. Maybe if he weren't the size of a pale Hulk, he could go and talk to her without intimidating her. But the way he is, he just slowly goes insane. His eyes glue to her every chance he has.

Hux tries to tease him once if he has a crush. Ben throws him a look that could choke a lesser man to death. 

He fears something deep down. He fears that what he feels is not a crush anymore. Maybe it never has been. 

Maybe it's always been more. 

____________________

_He cleans the guest bedroom when the party dies and every last guest is either gone or drooling in their sleep in an abandoned corner. He washes the duvet in the tub, throws out the used condom and the beer can and hopes that he can throw out his failure._

_He can't._

_To avoid suspicion, he rests for a few fitful hours in his car like someone who got thoroughly thrashed should. After the breakfast and the cleanup, he drives to the school and sneaks in. The janitor on Saturday doesn't know him so he makes him open the locker of his "sister" for a birthday surprise, and places the purse on the shelf._

_The old green metal door opens up without preamble even though he feels like finding the gates of Narnia. With the annoyed man looming behind his back, he doesn't have time to properly inspect Rey's locker. The only thing he sees is a picture of misty mountains on the inside of the door. Her books lay there well organised along with the workbooks._

_Ben wishes he had more time. More time to look at it, to soak up every little detail. Even the scratches of the previous users, or how the inside of the metal hull inexplicably smells like pinewood._

_He tucks away the crumbs of information and slams the door shut with a fake smile he learned from his father when he used to charm his way into an extra slice of bacon and a free hot chocolate for him in the diner shortly after his divorce._

_The janitor rolls his eyes and ushers him out of the school. Since it's the second weekend of the month, he drives to his dad._

_He's under the hood of a car — where else would he be on Sunday._

_"Hey kid!" he grunts. "How's the party?"_

_"Good," Ben tells him flatly. "Gonna catch some sleep."_

_Ben doesn't have to tell Han to keep this between them. The old man knows Leia wouldn't approve. She's not cut from the same cloth, like him and his dad._

_He climbs the stairs to his room and collapses on the bed._

_For the first time, he lets himself think the words he was trying not to think._

_What if he — what if he did this against her will? What if he —_

_Oh, God._

____________________

Friday's practice is a welcome distraction from the whole dumpster fire week. It's a friendly game against Tony's team but Ben still pushes for the win. He tackles the opposing players with all his force. As usual, the team follows his mood. The aggression he displays multiplies and by the time they win by a small margin, everyone is exhausted. 

Ben cites a family obligation with his mother to make a swift exit. The others have not yet been in the shower when he's already out the door, walking to his car. 

The engine purrs like a docile tiger. His father must have tinkered with it while he fell asleep on Sunday afternoon for sheer exhaustion, trying to shut off his brain which was sinisterly insisting of labelling himself a potential rapist. 

The dark blue Ford pulls out of the parking lot and he slowly turns on the road taking him out of the city. The road is derelict after the buildings are left behind and he drives deep in thought. 

So much that he barely believes his own eyes when he sees the silhouette of a checkered skirt and a brown pullover. 

Rey. On the shoulder. Walking. 

He slows down to her speed and rolls down his window.

"Rey?" 

She looks at him, probably not expecting this encounter. He sees that much at her face when it falls a second later. 

"What do you want, Solo?" 

"Just — what are you doing?" 

"Walking. I thought it's obvious." 

"Yeah. Why, though? It's not safe."

He means the fact that this is a motorway without a pavement but also that she's a little mouse dressed like a temptation in freaking Texas, and she parades here around for anybody to snatch. He just wants her in his car, with a safety belt on. 

"I missed the last school bus," she answers, shrugging, not looking at him. Still walking. 

The car rolls forward so he can be level with her. 

"Can I give you a ride? Please?" 

Rey stops, staring at him irritatedly. 

" _What do you want?"_ she repeats. 

"Just — just get in the car. I'll tell you. You can sit on the backseat if you want." 

Rey sizes him up quizzically. 

" _Please,_ " he adds desperately. 

Rey rolls her eyes but, without a word, stomps to the car and tears open its door, acting like _she_ was doing _him_ a favor. 

She plops on the backseat and weaves her arms in front of her in a shield. Looking out of the window as the car rolls into motion. 

For a few moments, they sit in terse silence. Ben takes a deep breath. 

"Rey —" 

"Did I give you STD?" Rey blurts out. 

"Y — WH — _what_?!"

Rey rolls her eyes. 

"Is that why you wanted to talk to me? All week? I'm sorry I was such a disappointment you had to flee from the bed but I honestly —" 

Ben pulls over and breaks the car to a halt. He turns around, looking at her in disbelief. 

"I didn't _flee —_ "

"Yeah. Sure."

" — _you left me."_

After days, she finally, _finally,_ looks at him. But it's not the gaze he wanted. It's filled with pure intent to kill. With contempt. 

"I went. To the. _Bathroom._ "

Everything crumples in Ben like a wobbly tower of Jenga. 

_She went to the bathroom._

She didn't flee. She only went to the bathroom. All he should have done is _wait._ Instead of acting on impulse and grab her purse and —

" _Oh_."

" _Oh_?" she echoes icily. "I'm outta here."

"REY!" 

She kicks open the door and starts marching in the desert towards the next city. 

He can't fucking _believe_ this girl. If he stopped to think for a second, if he could make observations like a third person, he could realize how _similar_ they are. But he can't, and so he secures the car and jumps out, calling her name. 

"Leave me alone, Solo!" 

She's got a good lead on him, but Ben isn't a quarterback for nothing. Catching up with her isn't a big feat for him, finally making real use of the daily sprint training. He rounds her, blocking her way with his body. 

"Rey, please just listen —" 

"I don't want to! I _knew_ you hated it! Why the fuck did you offer to eat me out?! I probably should have sucked you off, didn't I?!" 

"No, you just should have _stayed,_ goddamit!" 

"I _did_ stay you fucking moron, I only went to the bathroom! Pee after sex? To not get a UTI?" 

He loses the beat to counter. 

"Wow, all these times you wet your dick and never thought of the girls? Men…"

She tries to push past him but he blocks her way again. 

"What the — would you just shut up for a second?" 

"I will when you admit that you hated it!" 

"Fine!" he growls. "I hated it!"

Rey gapes and finally, _finally_ he can say what he's been dying to say for all these surreal twenty minutes. 

"I hated it because you deserve _so much better._ "

The air between them stops vibrating. She's staring at him, confused, in disbelief. 

"Like… Like what?" she asks quietly. 

"Like. Movies. Dinners. With white table cloth and —" 

"I hate fancy places," she grumbles, voice wavering around tears that start to gather in her eyes. 

"Then taco and pizza from the takeout, _whatever you want._ Books. You like books, right?" 

"Right," she breathes, and that slight movement of her face makes her eyes spill over. She hastily wipes off the droplets, as if they would have never been there. 

He wants to take her in his arms so much it hurts. He's never cared about anything or anyone this much. Not even his late dog Chewie. 

"Then you should have the books, too. All of them. And — mountains. With pine trees."

Her eyes go round. With wonder or with fear or with astonishment. 

"I saw it. In your locker," he admits, embarrassed. "When I — I'm sorry I took your purse." 

"I thought it was you," she grumbles like an afterthought. 

He kicks a rock aside and puts his hands in the pocket of his jeans. Any second he could forget about himself and reach out and touch her. 

"I thought you'd — that I'd —" he swallows. The red dirt has ruined his white sneakers. Maybe he should have thought of that beforehand. His mother won't be pleased. These shoes were new and on-brand. Expensive. 

"What did you think, Ben?" 

"That I'd — that I'd hurt you." 

He swallows thickly. Bunches his hand into fists in his pocket. 

The r-word hangs between them unsaid and he hopes she gets it. 

"That you left because I did something unforgivable and —" he swallows around the lump in his throat. Sniffs. A drop of water lands on his ruined shoes. He wipes off his eyes with force. 

_Stop it, Solo._

"Ben," she says, _she calls him by his name,_ gently as a summer breeze. "You didn't. You did nothing wrong. I wanted it. I _asked_ for it."

She bumps his shoe with hers. They _touch._ Almost. The slight contact makes his heart beat faster. She doesn't _loathe him_ at that moment which is more than he can say for his entire existence. The gesture feels more intimate than a hug. Than a kiss. It's a peace offering which he recognizes. Accepts. 

He carefully nudges her white tennis shoes with his white sneakers. The width is twice hers. It leaves a red smudge next to the many others she already has. 

"Just — I was nervous because I know I'm not your type," Rey mumbles. "That you don't even like me. That I wouldn't be able to —" 

Ben sees her grimace and look away when he lifts his gaze. 

"And here I thought you always knew the correct answer." 

Her hazel eyes look at his in confusion. He can't help but smirk. Maybe he'll fuck this up royally but he needs to tell her how much and how deep and how unfounded and how absolutely bright pink his insides feel when she's with him in a room. 

"You're my only type. And I like you so much — you have no idea."

"You don't even know me," she protests. 

"I know you _somewhat,_ " he argues, a grin threatening to split his face in two. He really gets to tell her, and she'll listen. And then it will be all said and done, laid out. "I know that you _hate_ attention. I know that you always tug your sleeves when you're nervous. I also know you secretly have been pushing the chewing gum under Jessica's table —" 

"What?!" she squeaks mortified, 

"— and that you, apparently, like the mountains with green hills."

He pauses, no longer trying to hide his smile, the warmth that fills him. She does smile, too although she tries not to. Which only makes her dimples more pronounced. She's so cute he could die. 

"I also know a lot more about you," he murmurs, letting the hint hang between them in the air, letting her fill in that _he knows her pussy's taste, the sounds she makes when she comes, how his cock fits inside her,_ watching her suck in a sharp breath. "And I'd like to know _so much more._ All this time I've been watching you, I knew I'd never be enough. For someone so smart and authentic as you. Way out of my league."

He doesn't bother reigning in his eyes, letting them slide over every inch of her hungrily, hurriedly, insatiably. Her tight ponytail, her neck, her breasts, her waist. Her eyes, which sparkle with something else than tears. 

"Funny," she breathes, watching his lips, "how all this time I've been watching you I never noticed that _you've_ been watching _me._ "

"Oh?" 

"Yeah it's —" her tongue darts out to wet her mouth, "it's embarrassing. Every girl is watching you, you know."

"Are they," he rumbles, drifting closer. 

Her eyes are zeroed stubbornly on his pectorals, even when his shoe slides between hers, into the space she subconsciously gave him. 

"Yeah. It's —" 

"I wouldn't know, you know," he says while he very carefully touches her wrist, feeling her shiver just an inch from him, "I've been too busy watching you."

"Yeah?" 

_She trembles._ But she can't be cold so Ben knows she's aroused, uncomfortably so. He's giddy with it. Rey Oliver. Wet. For _him._

"Yeah. It's embarrassing, really," he murmurs. "Two years of my life. Watching you."

Her eyes slide shut, she hugs herself tighter. 

"M-hm."

He leans in, skating his finger up her arm. They're so close he could hug her. Their bodies hover just with an inch between them. He wants to close the gap. 

"Rey."

She nods.

"Look at me."

She does, slowly. Her hazel eyes still shine with a fear, a fear that this is a terrible prank. But with something else — which he recognizes because he feels it himself. A yearning for this to be true. To finally happen.

"May I please kiss you? _Please?_ " 

Her eyes flit to his lips again. But she doesn't give in. 

"What do you want, Solo?" she mumbles, watching the ground beneath them. 

_Swotty._

"The whole nine yards, Oliver," he explains, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear, getting her to look at him again with those attentive, deeply shining eyes. 

"Pizza, taco. Books. Mountains. If that's what you want."

He smiles at her and he knows he's _sappy._ But he can't help himself. He can't bring himself to care.

"What — need a nerdy friend?" she teases. Her cheeks are red. Her pupils blown. 

He snorts. 

"I need a _girlfriend_ , Oliver. Specifically, _this_ girlfriend. _You_. I don't think my football player buddies would appreciate if they knew the _other_ things I have in mind."

"Oh?" she says, _oh,_ and drifts closer. 

She's _fucking with him_. 

"Let me kiss you, then I'll show you the rest. _Please_ , Oliver, I'm begging you."

"Okay."

"Okay?" he echoes, surprised, not expecting such an easy and simple win. 

She doesn't bother to repeat herself. Rey flings herself at him, bony, long arms pulling him down with surprising force until their lips collide. 

It's more of a long squashing of mouths than a proper kiss — but she's smiling and so is he. He slides his hands on her waist, _so extremely small_ waist, and opens his mouth to deepen the kiss. 

Their teeth collide. 

"Ouch," Rey hisses, embarrassed. 

"You've —" Ben starts incredulously, but doesn't get to finish the sentence as it dawns on him that she's _never been kissed before._ He takes this one, this first, too, from her. Because she gives it to him. 

He doesn't wait for her to explain. His hand cradles her head and tilts it to his liking, swiping his tongue slower against her, until she learns the rhythm. Her legs give out and she hangs on him half standing.

"God," Ben groans, when she nips his lip, mirroring him. "Oliver, you drive me wild."

"Ben —" 

_She whines._

"Not now, Oliver," he says while he eats her face and neck and his hands palm tits and ass and legs, "I won't fuck you here."

He says that even when his cock is hard, even when he can't stop thinking about doing exactly _that._ From the way she whimpers in protest and ruts against his erection, Ben guesses Rey's thinking the same. 

But he's here to make amends. A second chance he won't blow. 

"I told you," he pants, tearing himself away from her. "The whole nine yards."

She _stomps._ She actually — stomps. With a caged growl. 

"Be— _nnn_."

Gods. Dammit. Maybe he could make it work on the backseat? 

_No. No, Ben. Behave._

"Trust me, Oliver," he soothes her, hugging her to himself, fondling her hair, trying to calm himself down as much as her by pressing a kiss to her forehead. "It'll feel so much better."

"How'd you know?" she mumbles against his chest. 

"I don't. But I just _know._ "

"You're not making any sense," she complains accusingly into his chest. 

"I know. I'm not the smart one here."

He swears he feels her roll her eyes. She takes a deep breath and detangles herself from his body to peer up at him. 

His small mouse. So fucking cute. Maybe fatefully so. 

"Just take me home then?" 

He kisses the crown of her head again. 

"Alright." Experimentally he adds, "baby?" 

"Such a fuck boy pet name."

"I can —" 

"I love it." She grins at him. "Solo."

He kisses him gently on her offered mouth. 

" _Oliver_."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben thinks he's raped Rey. Which he didn't. But he still fears it. It explains most of his illogical behavior. 
> 
> Thank you Trueffle for the STD idea, it really brought home the whole thing!! <3 
> 
> Thank you my lovely readers for leaving kudos and comments on the previous chapter. I welcome them, I live for them! Please, keep them coming! If you know someone who might be interested in this story, share it! <3 How did you like this chapter? Morons, right?? :D
> 
> Also give me your headcanons about the next chapter because that will be smuuuuuuuuuuuut. Again. (Some say it's the thing I do best. Maybe. It's the only thing I remotely can write lol!)

**Author's Note:**

> Summary: 
> 
> Ben has a crush on Rey but he doesn't dare to make a move on her. He's just too cool for that, being on the football team and all while Rey is the nerd of the class. Still, her checkered mini-skirts drive him wild.  
> When one of Ben's friends invites Rey to a house party she has no business to attend, things get out of hand. Rey asks Ben to take her virginity. Ben is taken aback, wants to protest but Rey guilts him into doing it, framing it as a favour for bullying her. All the way Rey emphasises that it's not personal for her. Ben resists getting angry as long as he can but in the end, he does get angry. Despite his rage, he is mindful of not hurting Rey throughout the intercourse. He feels awful and used. In the end, Ben sees Rey walk out on him without a word.
> 
> Thank you a thousand times Trueffle for the alpha read and also for encouraging me the whole time! ❤️ ❤️
> 
> Unbetad, all mistakes are my own! If you see something, let me know!
> 
> Also, I very much appreciate every single comment! They make me live!! Since I haven't updated my fics for 6 months, I'd like to know if I can still give you something worth your time. Do I? Let me know! 
> 
> You can also come talk to me on Twitter (reylotrashpiler) :)


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